She nodded abruptly to his enquiry, earning herself a wry sidelong glance. ‘And you must call me Flynn.’ Must she? She didn’t think so. And there was a perverse satisfaction in knowing he didn’t have a clue who she really was. ‘So why, Emma, have you decided to spend Christmas at your grandmother’s cottage and all alone by the look of it? From what I’ve heard from your grandmother and more especially from the “yokels” after your last visit, it just isn’t your style. What’s happened to the yuppie boyfriend?’ Oliver was a yuppie, and Marigold couldn’t stand him, but hearing Flynn Moreau refer to the other man in a supercilious tone suddenly made Oliver a dear friend! Marigold forced a disdainful shrug. ‘My reasons are my own, surely?’ she said coolly. He nodded cheerfully, not at all taken aback by the none-too subtle rebuke. ‘Sure, and hey, there’ll be no objections from anyone hereabouts that lover boy’s not with you,’ he added with charming malice.
What do You think about Christmas At His Command (2002)?
